


That time of the year

by captainofthewinter (promisesofhappiness)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, that's all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 00:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2527448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/promisesofhappiness/pseuds/captainofthewinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's that time of the year again</p>
            </blockquote>





	That time of the year

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something to get me back on truck. Sorry for any mistake that got through

It's raining again. It's nothing unusual for Britain, sure, but this time, it feels different. It's that time of the year when people abandon threadbare t-shirts for warm knitted jumpers and cardigans. It's that time of the year when everything is silver/gold and frail, when the leaves barely cling to the last remnants of life. Fragile and outworldly beautiful. It's the time of the year when Life and Death co-exist in a beautiful, breathtaking dance. It's that time of the year when Harry craves a cup of hot coffee in the mornings and spots ink stained fingers in his haste to take everything in, every aspect of life around him. It's autumn and the magic cracks in the air.

Tom says autumn is the time that Magic prevails. That's why Halloween,sorry, Samhain, is celebrated in October.Halfway between the autumn equinox and the winter solstice, it's the most magical time of the year. And Harry believes him. Partly because Tom is a genius and knows everything. And partly because he can see it. Feel it.

Autumn is the time of miracles. Magical miracles. He can feel the magic in the air, caressing his skin, protective like the touch of a mother. It curls around his fingers with the barest though, responds to his every whim. But the greatest miracle, in his eyes, is the happiness in Tom's eyes. It changes his whole being, lights him up from inside, and Harry is thankful he met Tom, this Tom. The one who smiles sleepily in the mornings and makes Harry hot chocolate, because coffee is not good for Harry's nerves and Tom is a little shit. He loves seeing Tom's lean figure swallowed up in huge sweaters and cardigans, wrapped in scarvesvso thick it gets ridiculous. He adores the mornings when Tom refuses to leave the sanctuary of their bed, too cosy under the duvet to worry about anything other than warm his hands up Harry's shirt.

He loves autumn, because it's the time of the year Tom is at his happiest. They make love lazily, grinning at each other in the light of the dawn, crispy cold and just right. He becomes addicted to the feel of Tom's hot breath on his neck while his moist fingers prod deeply into his being, as if searching for his heart. He begs and moans for more and more and screams Tom's name like a prayer. In this silent world, it seems right.

Later, they will tug close and share the warm while their bodies cool down, still aching. But it's that sweet ache that is born from passion and love and Harry cherishes it, keeps it close to his heart. He feels cosy and warm and it's a feeling he is not willing to give up

It's that time of the year when Harry falls in love with Tom anew.


End file.
